


Ties that bind

by McTiddles



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: Angst, F/F, Fix-It of Sorts, Fluff, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Recovery, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-02-27 11:15:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 12,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22266241
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/McTiddles/pseuds/McTiddles
Summary: Yennefer wakes up after the battle of Sodden surrounded by darkness...
Relationships: Tissaia de Vries/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 181
Kudos: 454





	1. Return to Aretuza

Notes

I've never written and posted anything here before, but I hope you enjoy! 

The first thing she noticed was the itch of fabric against her skin, the feeling spreading across her body, becoming more and more overwhelming with each passing second. She then became aware of the heaviness of her limbs as she attempted to shun the offending fabric from her. Groggily, she recognised that she must have somehow survived what felt like her own self-combustion. 

Her eyes stung as she opened them, but she was able to see surroundings. She was in a small room drowned in darkness other than a soft glow emanating from the corner of the room, which revealed another person slumped in a rather uncomfortable looking position in an armchair.

“Tissaia.” She croaked, voice hoarse from lack of use.

She looked much better than when Yennefer saw her last, but Tissaia was evidentially exhausted and looked ghostly in the dim light. Is it any wonder, she mused, considering Tissaia’s current sleeping arrangement. This must be Tissaia’s bedroom. She must have been truly concerned to give up her own bed.

Spotting a jug of water beside the bed, she gulped at its contents greedily.

“Careful, you don’t want to drown.”

If anyone had told Yennefer while she was a student of Aretuza that she would one day be happy to have Tissaia de Vries scolding her, she would have assumed they had been taken by a toxin and summoned assistance immediately.

“Careful, you’re beginning to sound positively affectionate.” Yennefer countered, 

The corners of Tissaia’s mouth twitched upwards. She watched as Tissaia stretched upwards in the armchair, twisting in an attempt to smooth out kinks that Yennefer could imagine all too well. 

Yennefer straightened against the headboard, taking note of the thin silken nightgown she was wearing. She raised an eyebrow at Tissaia. 

“It was the only fabric I could find that wouldn’t irritate your skin. It turns out that unleashing chaos in that fashion has left your skin rather sensitive.” 

“Mm. That explains this incessant itching.” 

“I have a salve that needs to be spread on the skin every 4 hours. You usually stopped thrashing once it was applied. You certainly didn’t make it easy to administer. Oh, hush, it's not like you to be modest.” 

“Oh, that’s swell. Not as though I needed that ounce of my remaining dignity.” 

“An ounce is generous of you,” Tissaia said.

“What of you? I thought...” Yennefer trailed off, remembering the last conversation she had the woman in front of her feeling much like a final goodbye. 

“I woke up in a makeshift medic tent shortly after the battle. Once given an antidote to draw out the poison all anyone could do was give me a strong sleeping tonic and hope I woke up again.” Tissaia scooped a thick salve from an ornate ceramic tub and moved to sit at Yennefer’s side. She rubbed her palms together, warming the balm in a considerate manner she hadn’t quite associated with the woman in front of her.

“And the others?” Yennefer was almost afraid to ask. 

“We suffered major losses but your friends survived. Triss received substantial burns but nothing life-threatening. Sabrina may need a more sensitive avenue of support to help her acknowledge that she was simply a pawn with no control over her actions.’ 

“Surely no one is blaming Sabrina for what happened? Fringilla released mind worms for fucks sake.” 

“No, I believe she struggles to forgive herself. The foolish girl seems to think she should simply have ignored their whispers.” 

“I looked into her eyes as she tried to gut me, she was a shadow. Facing that type of magic and surviving is no small feat.” 

Tissaia paused in her administration of the ointment, hands halting on Yennefer's skin. She was staring indistinctly at the far wall, her forehead creased in a frown

“Speaking of surviving, I saw your chaos unleash on that hillock. It should have vaporized you.” 

“Well, don’t sound too disappointed.”

“Yennefer.”

Tissaia turned towards her then, pinning her with an intense gaze

“You were incredible.”

“I wish I felt it.”

“The power you unleashed... surviving that, never mind controlling it… “ She continued on, paying no mind to Yennefer’s interruption. 

“Truly, Yennefer, I owe you my life.”

“We’re even, then.”

Tissaia’s grip on her leg tightened. 

“You sacrificed yourself. You sheltered me from the flames. Why?”

“What do you mean, why?”

“You chose my life over yours.”

“Tissaia, are you asking me to justify myself for seeking to protect you? Surely you don’t think I would just let you burn?”

Tissaia’s eyes sought hers once more. 

“But that wasn’t the choice, was it?” Tissaia whispered.

“I don’t recall having a choice, whatsoever, Tissaia. I was beyond feeling anything but chaos. I remember only darkness and agony.’ Yennefer lowered her gaze.

That wasn’t entirely true. She was omitting the face she saw as she summoned the flames from deep within her soul. The image of Tissaia’s forehead held against hers, it had grounded her, stabilised her enough to be able to just about guide the flames that threatened to consume her. Blue eyes that gently stoked the fire, prodding it, moulding it all the while providing the chord that tethered her. No, Yennefer didn’t have a choice, but she had more control than she felt capable of admitting just yet.

Tissaia remained silent, instead, she reached for more salve and motioned for Yennefer to sit up and shift her nightdress. Hands delicately began spreading the balm over Yennefer’s back, soothing the irritated skin. Yennefer could feel her body becoming heavy until she was almost slumped with tiredness against Tissaia.

“Your body has been through a tremendous amount. Let it rest.”

“I can’t keep hogging your bed. What must the fine specimens of this establishment think of us? Heavens, Vilgefortz must be positively beside himself.”

“I’m finding myself in rather a state of disbelief that I missed that mouth of yours a just a short time ago.”

“I’ll remember that confession, dear Tissaia.” She yawned. 

“Come. Back to bed with you.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve taken a few liberties with this next chapter. I haven’t read all of the books, and never actually finished the game, so much of what happens next is a little bit of a mashup. Apologies for any errors, I am 100% to blame.
> 
> Thank you again for all of the lovely comments, I can’t believe how supportive everyone has been!
> 
> I hope you enjoy it!

*

It was the pang in her stomach that woke her, but the hunger made her realise that the ever-torturous itch had eased into a dull irritation. She was cocooned within blankets, not having kicked them off through the night, and her skin still felt oily. Tissaia must have reapplied the salve during the night.

To her surprise, the older woman had slept beside her. She knew it was the result of sheer exhaustion. She hadn’t even changed from her typically ornate dress, she simply lay on top of the bed linen where they both remained in easy silence until sleep seized them.

She glanced beside her only to find she was alone. Judging from the amount of sun streaming through the wide window, Yennefer assumed it was mid-morning.

Another rumble from her stomach encouraged her to get out of bed. She found that she was weaker than she cared to admit. Feeling considerably betrayed by her body, she pushed herself up from the bed. She hadn’t been within Tissaia’s chambers before, but could only assume that they were connected to her office like many of the other mage residents. If that was true then the kitchens weren’t far at all. Even with her pathetic legs she should make it well enough.

She pushed herself through a door at the far end of the bed and found herself in Tissaia’s office. She felt like an intruder, as though she just had entered a private space, more so than she felt within Tissaia’s bed chambers. Yennefer had only ever been here when in the company of Tissaia. Her bedroom was rather bland by comparison, now she considered it, and was evidently used simply for sleep. It was evident that most of Tissaia’s time was spent within this room, with possessions delicately positioned throughout. Even then, Yennefer eyed a suspiciously well-worn looking armchair sitting behind the desk.

She moved towards the hefty wooden door she knew would lead her to the main corridor, no desire to intrude further than she already had. Tissaia was a reserved woman. One of few who Yennefer actually respected. She had no wish to linger.

Entering the draughty hall almost made her want to return to the comfort of thick blankets and a warm bed. A history of endless nights spent warming numb hands came to mind. The darkest of nights that she still carried with her, a pain she felt as clearly as if it was a fresh wound, though it was several lifetimes ago now.

She moved slowly through familiar corridors. The only apparent noise being Yennefer's bare feet padding along the stone floor. Thinking back to her time as a student, she suspected Tissaia and the others must be in sessions. That would certainly explain the stillness of the hour.

After what felt surely like an age, Yennefer reached the kitchen and promptly identified a tray of freshly baked bread rolls. Like the corridors, the kitchen was deserted, and it suited Yennefer perfectly. Grabbing a plate, she selected a moderate helping of cheese and bread, deciding it best not to get too adventurous after days of magical nourishment alone.

The sound of the door opening was enough to shift Yennefer’s focus from her plate. She had settled in the corner alcove of the kitchen, a private position that she had always favoured during evenings where she couldn’t commit to the dining hall or simply sought an escape from her room.

Yennefer watched Stregobor enter the room with another mage she didn’t know. They had yet to notice Yennefer and considering her rather strenuous relationship with Stregobor, she didn’t feel inclined to attract his attention. He guided his companion briskly through the door by his elbow, turning abruptly to ensure it was securely shut.

“You have news?” Stregobor asked, leaning closer to the other man.

“Aye. You won’t be happy. Seems the bitch has vanished. The medics reckon she was there one minute and gone the next.”

“How the devil could a supposedly dying woman ‘just vanish’. I don’t pay you so that she can ‘just’ anything, Foxtam.”

“What does it matter, old man? If she’s gone, good riddance.”

“She’s powerful, that makes her more dangerous than you know. Was there a trace? Could she have portalled?”

“She was near death, Stregobor, never mind conscious enough to use magic.”

“We cannot afford the luxury of underestimating this woman. How many times must I say it?”

“Look, even if she did portal out, she’d be long since dead by now, and surely no cause of concern.”

“I need her under lock and key. If there is one person I cannot have snooping around, it’s Yennefer of Vengerberg. You know how valuable she is for our cause. We have too much invested in this. Too many of our own have _died_ for this.” Stregobor spat.

Yennefer pushed herself further into the shadows of the alcove, feeling certain now that there was more conspiring currently taking place within the walls of Aretuza than even Yennefer’s suspicious mind had anticipated. If Stregobor was after her blood, why was she even here. Could Tissaia know about the price on her head? She couldn’t imagine so. Surely the woman wouldn’t have sheltered her with a price on her dead.

One thing was certain, Stregobor could not find her. She was not the type to shy in the face of confrontation but knowing she would be no match for two powerful wizards in her weakened state, she summoned what little chaos she still possessed to cloak her. It was hardly an advanced spell and would not shield her if Stregobor and his friend moved closer, but it left her feeling as though her body was a sack of wet sand. If they did find her now, she would be useless.

“We get it, Stregobor. She’ll be found and we’ll have more news soon. A band of scouts are combing the area for any sort of trace. If anything magical went on, we’ll find proof of it.” The man was patient, Yennefer had to give him that.

“See that you do.”

Stregobor swung the door open and exited the room, his tailcoat trailing along behind him, leaving the man, Foxtam, Stregobor had called him, to follow after him.

Yennefer slumped in her seat, both mentally and physically exhausted. She needed to get out of Aretuza, but first, she needed to speak to Tissaia. This not only effected Yennefer. She needed to know that there was more going on here than Stregobor simply painting a target on her back. If Stregobor was to be believed, lives were even at stake.

With a surge of motivation, she pushed herself to her feet. Upon reaching the door, she paused, listening for a moment. Hearing nothing but silence, she slowly stepped through the door and slid into the corridor. She stuck close to the shadows as she hurried back to Tissaia’s rooms, stopping only when she heard the mumble of voices in the distance. Sweat broke at the nape of her neck until she could note the voices fading as they moved further away.

Her legs ached as she all but sprinted to Tissaia’s door, charging through with little grace. She let the door slam shut behind her as she saw Triss Merigold standing in front of the desk, where Tissaia sat, head in her hands. Both women startled at Yennefer’s sudden appearance.

“Oh, thank Heavens.” Tissaia’s head dropped into her palms once more.

“While it’s great to see you upright again, Yennefer, you nearly gave us cause for a stroke.”

“We certainly wouldn’t want that.” She said, out of breath. She fell into one of the two uncomfortable chairs facing Tissaia’s desk.

“What on earth possessed you to leave, Yennefer?” Tissaia asked.

“My stomach, if I’m entirely honest. Terribly sorry.”

“This is serious, girl.”

“Nobody saw me, if that’s what you’re so worried about.”

She watched as Tissaia and Triss shared an uneasy look.

“What makes you think that worries us?” The question came from Triss.

“Because while nobody saw me, I did have a rather charming encounter with Stregobor.”


	3. Chapter 3

Notes

I'm totally going rogue here. I hope you like it!

*

“You mean to say, Stregobor plans to tell the brotherhood that I orchestrated the entirety of Sodden?”

“I think he certainly plans to use your… reputation, within the brotherhood to his advantage.” Tissaia explained.

“You mean my reputation of calling the brotherhood a pack of blithering, self-serving idiots?”

“Yes, Yennefer. That reputation.” Tissaia grimaced.

“You have to admit, you are the perfect scapegoat. You’ve certainly shown that you have no love for the brotherhood. Quite a few times now, actually.” Triss grinned at her.

“Sodden wasn’t just the beginning of this, Yennefer." She threw Triss a warning glance. "You’ve been away for years, decades, even. Things here have been getting progressively more and more poisonous. No, Sodden was just the tipping point.”

“We think old Stregobor has been feeling a little insecure in his position of power within Aretuza.” Triss replied.

“Good. How he even got any to begin with is astounding.”

“Because he’s a little rat.”

“Okay, so, fill me in. What have I missed?”

"I believe what really set it off might have been Rinde," Tissaia said.

"I'm afraid you've started speaking in riddles."

"He found out I went to you. I think he saw it as rather a betrayal… he didn't think I was in contact with you."

"But you didn't… Rinde was the first time I even saw you since…"

"Your ascension. I know. You see, I think this has less to do with you, Yennefer, and quite a bit more to do with me."

"The old perv fancies her, she means," Triss explained.

"Oh no, Tissaia, please. Not that slimy old goat. First Vilgefortz now Stregobor. I'd nearly say you have a type… a rather awful one at that"

"Before Rinde," Tissaia continued. "Stregobor had been forming alliances throughout the kingdom, recruiting the mages in Aretuza, proposing somewhat ridiculous ideas. In hindsight, I suppose it looks as though I went running straight to you, and you were always a most... vocal, opponent."

"I'm flattered."

"Yennefer, you represent everything that Stregobor opposes. A free movement of mages, independent of The Brotherhood. He understandably sees you as his biggest threat."

"Especially post Sodden,” Triss added.

“Exactly. Word has spread across the continent of your ability to vanquish armies. This makes you valuable... or, in some cases, dangerous.”

“It sounds like this may be the worst place for me to be right now. I should think about leaving.”

“I’d argue the opposite,” Tissaia said.

“You usually do.”

“Enough. Triss, would you let Sabrina know that our runaway has returned?”

“I think she already-"

“Now, please Triss.”

"Oh! Yes, of course.” Triss hurried from the room in a way that made Yennefer think of the tortured souls they truly used to be. Students learning to navigate the intricacies and secrets of Aretuza, an education with the highest stakes.

Looking at Tissaia now, she could still see the stern woman who had nursed a group of broken teenagers, linking them through their shared anger and fear. Yennefer rarely thought of her fallen sisters. If she was totally honest with herself, it had been years since they had even crossed her mind. Tissaia had taught her all those years ago that she could not control loss itself, but she could control her handle of it.

Tissaia who had caught her when she could feel herself slipping away as a girl. A girl who was unable to control the agony that flowed through her veins, a constant burn that pumped like lava through her body. She had watched it drain from her body, convincing herself that by letting go, she would be free.

Tissaia who needled painfully at the darkest of her emotions, until the thought of the woman could only have filled her with hate. Hate that taught her to feel again. She had told Tissaia that she had saved Yennefer’s life, but Tissaia had not only saved her life, she taught her how to live it. Day by day, Yennefer used the fiercest of lessons learned in Aretuza. When darkness called to her, she could summon it and wind it through her fingers. Those short years wound together closely, knitting through the years that followed.

Tissaia who was sitting at her desk, quietly watching her.

“Where did that mind wander off to this time?” She asked.

“Here and there.”

Tissaia waited.

“I was thinking back to my time as a student.”

“Ah, yes. It must be difficult coming back now to find everything has changed.”

“It hasn’t, you know. Stregobor is still a fuckwit, and you’re still here, forever prodding me into conversation.”

“Is it so bad?”

“No, Tissaia, it’s not.” Yennefer paused, considering her words carefully. “I rather like this… this truce.”

“Which leads me into my next topic,” Tissaia leaned forward on her desk.

“I should have bloody known. What are you planning?”

“There is a movement forming amongst a few of the older sorceresses. They believe the Brotherhood has delved too deep into political influence. That we need to remain neutral and serve ourselves above all others. That this is how we can best serve the continent.”

“Fuck the continent, Tissaia,” she started.

“They believe the Brotherhood treats its mages as pawns,” Tissaia cut her off, “and they are quite right,” she added.

“Where do you stand in all of this?”

“I’m rather caught in the middle. I believe change begins within. By creating a new faction we will be divided so extremely that we may never recover. It could instigate a war of the mages. I fear that while such substantial change is needed… The Brotherhood might not survive it.”

Yennefer watched as Tissaia’s forehead wrinkled with emotion.

“The secrets and games that are at play here, Tissaia… it’s poisonous.”

Tissaia looked up at her, her hands fidgeting with the lace on her cuff.

“It is.” Yennefer barely heard her. The sheer exhaustion of the woman before her was impossible to ignore.

“You can’t face this now, Tissaia. You’re still recovering.”

“The longer I take, the more everything slips away.”

“Then let it _fall_ , Tissaia. Watch them burn themselves, but don’t set yourself alight putting out embers.”

A knock echoed through the room, with Triss’s head appearing from behind the door.

“They’re calling us to Chapter.”


	4. Chapter 4

Hi all, I'll admit to taking a few liberties with the timing in this story (butchering it to suit my own agenda). I should also admit that all mistakes are 100% by yours truly.

As always, I hope you enjoy!

*

"Well, we'd better not keep him waiting!" Yennefer spoke out, knowingly initiating a significant rise in Tissaia’s stress levels.

"What on earth are you talking about? Have you learned nothing, girl? You'd be walking straight into the lions den."

'Oh, darling, you do make me laugh. Although, he does think himself a lion, doesn't he? It’s rather tragic."

"Tissaia's right, Yennefer. Now isn't the time. And we need to go, Tissaia." Triss advised.

"And I suppose I shall just wait patiently while everyone else has all of the fun?"

"That would be perfect, actually."

“Please, Yennefer. Not now. Your time will come, I swear it.” 

"Easy, Tissaia. The last time you used that word you nearly got us killed."

Tissaia moved towards the door, pausing to fix Yennefer with an uncertain gaze.

" _Please_."

"Fine." She said, exasperated. 

*

Tissaia and Triss hurried through the stony corridors towards Council, where they were met with a droning hum that only occurred during such gatherings. 

"Something is in the air," said Tissaia, hesitating by the door.

"Hopefully, it's something we can work with," Triss said. She faltered briefly, deliberating her next words, "Do you think Yennefer will remain in your chambers?"

"I trust that she will find some sort of mischief to engage herself. She is surely adult enough to occupy herself for a short while.”

Triss replied only with a silence that spoke volumes.

Tissaia could feel her lips twitch upwards as she straightened herself and entered the room with the confidence afforded only to the Rectoress of Aretuza.

As she marched to the central table, she greeting each of her associates with a nod. Tissaia knew the importance of maintaining appearances, especially during such unsettling times.

Sabrina caught her eye from the far end of the room and subtly motioned towards the edge of the table, where Vilgefortz was in a hushed conversation with Stregobor. Interestingly, she noted small nods of agreement rather than the common frustrated motions.

From the corner of her eye, she watched a page boy hurry into the room and approach Stregobor. He gestured tentatively towards Vilgefortz before handing him a note. Stregobor paid no mind to the boy, and waved him away abruptly before casting his eye over the paper. Tissaia watched attentively as his eyebrows raised rather comically. Vilgefortz must have also noted the expression, as he leaned forward in concern. Stregobor looked up from the note and glanced around the room, his eyes settled intently on Tissaia, who met his gaze evenly. The mans face transformed into what she could only describe as a smirk. Still maintaining eye contact with Tissaia, he whispered something slyly to Vilgefortz, who nodded in response. She watched as he raised himself to his fullest height and marched abruptly from the room.

Feeling rather uneasy, Tissaia motioned for Sabrina and Triss to remain still while she casually moved towards Vilgefortz, who was still eyeing Stregobor’s exit path. 

He whirled around as she reached out to gently touch his elbow.

“Tissaia,” he said. “Great to see you, as always.”

“And you, Vilgefortz. I made towards you earlier but you seemed otherwise engaged.” 

“Ah, yes. Stregobor. Always a character.” He said, smiling.

"He has a certain determination that could almost be endearing.'

“I’ve missed that dry humour of yours. Where in heavens have you been lately, anyway?” Vilgefortz laughed.

“I’m afraid some students of mine have been playing up post-Sodden. You know how it is with the young ones.” She said, smiling as she realised she wasn’t entirely lying. 

“It must be hard for them to see their mentor visibly impacted from battle.” He said, hand subconsciously moving towards his own scars.

“They have already experienced the knife edge of life. Otherwise they wouldn’t be here. Even so, I think many of them believe to be sheltered from such things as a mage, it’s part of our job to shatter their idea of Aretuza as a safe haven.”

“Don’t you get tired of it, Tissaia?” He asked, voice lowering until she could barely hear him.

“Of course. But it’s also our responsibility to raise the most resilient mages. Something I think we might even do too well,” she said, thinking of Nilfgard.

He nodded at her, going silent.

“I wonder why we’ve been summoned now. Council isn’t due to convene for at least another moon?” Tissaia said, knowing that Vilgefortz would know details if they were available.

“Haven’t you heard, Tissaia?” To his credit, his surprise seemed genuine. 

“I’m afraid I’ve fallen behind on Aretuza’s latest gossip,” she admitted.

“Apparently, we’ve been invited to an almost exclusive gathering.”

“A gathering?”

“The Isle of Thanedd is to be hosting mages from the kingdom. I imagine our schedules are about to become quite full.”

*

Yennefer lounged back in Tissaia's desk chair. It was comfortable enough, she supposed, large enough to be able to stretch and lounge but also padded enough to remain in position for hours at a time. She wondered how much time Tissaia spent here on this seat, working diligently. The grooves embedded into the cushion suggested quite a while.

Her desk was as neat as the woman herself, save for a few scattered letters. Yennefer leaned forward and caught a glimpse of words on the nearest one. Looking closer, she read the words ‘child of Surprise.’ 

She grabbed at it, crinkling the crisp parchment in her haste.

_Dearest Tissaia,_

_It has been a while since we spoke last. For that you have my sincerest of apologies. Thinking back to our last exchange leaves me feeling rather ill at ease. I do hope we can come to an agreement soon. Just know that you will always have a place by my side in the Lodge._

_I write to you now to spread the word of whispers. My friends have been telling tales of a child of Surprise. Of the Elder Blood._

_I trust you know what this means, Tissaia, and I imagine that you are aware of where this path will lead._

_Speak soon._

_Always yours,_

_Philippa_

Yennefer’s thoughts travelled straight to the witcher. It wasn’t often the law of surprise was invoked, let alone to such a degree. If there was a conspiracy here, of course that man was involved. It would surely be too coincidental for Geralt to have acquired a child through such methods for it to not be the one in question. 

There wasn’t much time. If others already knew of the child’s existence, it certainly wasn’t a difficult jump to ascertain who the child now belonged to.

She sat back in Tissaia’s chair. If these whispers were to be believed, this child was powerful beyond imagining. Whether the child had control was going to be the ultimate question.

One thing was now certain. She had to leave Aretuza. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this one took so long to post. Just haven't had time, my friends. Hopefully back on track now though.
> 
> Thank you everyone for the lovely comments and the kind words so far. They're all wonderful and very much appreciated.
> 
> I promise Tissaia isn't too far away and I hope everyone forgives me for the temporary separation

Yennefer followed a trail of blood and gossip that could only be associated with the recent presence of a witcher. She listened to villagers with nervous eyes who spoke of demons that had plagued them for years, only to disappear one winter night. A piercing screech in the darkness followed by the appearance of a white haired man passing through the village the next morning had provided them the only glimpse at what had fell the beast. 

She met townsmen who boasted of enlisting a creature to slay a monster that had been abducting their women and children. The men gave the towns collective gold to the beast, only to be told the monsters they sought were their own men. She was told he had kept their gold and solved nothing. That disappearances were more common than ever. 

This path took her through the continent, weaving through the duchies of Temeria, until her trail came to a halt as she reached Ellander. With no rumours of beasts or of a white haired wolf-man to follow, she was at a loss. Yennefer was unused to second guessing herself. Could she have been trailing a different witcher? Had she missed something? 

Fatigued and frustrated, she spotted a tavern at the corner of the bustling market place. She found it rather spacious and comfortable, with an open fireplace and several benches and tables littered throughout. It was only mid-afternoon, but the weather was dreary and the clouds were dense enough to make one think it was late evening. The innkeeper approached as Yennefer was positioning herself at a small table by the window.

“Afternoon, miss,” he nods politely. He was young, she judged, noticing the wisp of facial hair proudly decorating his upper lip and chin. His eyes darted nervously from hers until they fixed themselves determinedly on her chin.

“Good afternoon,” she smiled.

“Can I get you anything?” 

“I’ll have a glass of ale, please, darling.” She watched as a noteworthy shade of red blossomed from the collar of his shirt, spreading up his neck until it beamed brightly from youthful cheeks.

“Coming right up miss,” he turned swiftly, all but running to the safety of the bar.

It was cruel, teasing the boy, but after weeks of travelling and constant moving, she revelled in it. 

“Some things never change,” spoke a low, familiar voice.

“Well, think of the devil and the devil doth appear,” she could hear the surprise seeping into her voice. Yennefer hadn’t heard the tavern door open after she had arrived, so the witcher must have already been here.

“I heard tell of a demanding woman with purple eyes asking after me. Thought I'd better make my presence known.” Geralt sank into the seat opposite her with an ale in hand.

“I must say, you could have presented yourself sooner. I’ve been all over this blasted place trying to pick up your scent.”

“I’ve been staying at the Temple of Melitele. Haven’t strayed into town much. Been trying to keep out of trouble.”

“Most unlike you, Geralt,” she paused as the boy came back with her ale. The ale sloshed as it hit the table. The boy was glancing uneasily at the witcher before meeting Yennefer’s persistent gaze.

“Can I help with anything else, miss?” He said, standing taller with his skinny chest pushed out. 

“This is perfect, thank you, darling,” she said sweetly.

“No problem, miss. I’ll just be behind the bar if you need anything else, miss.”

“Quite a protector you’ve gotten yourself, Yen.” Geralt's eyes glinted with humour.

“You’ve got to admire his spirit, at least.”

“Hm,” he leaned forward, arms stretched across the table. “Now you’ve found me, are you going to explain why you were looking for me?”

“I think you know, Geralt.”

“You want the child.”

“I want nothing, witcher, but if the little I’ve heard is true, the child is in danger.”

“What has it to do with you, Yen? You mean to warn me? You think I don’t take my responsibility seriously?” His voice was getting lower, almost a hiss. 

“I seem to remember you running rather determinedly in the opposite direction of this responsibility, Geralt.“

She watched as the man deflated, slumping into the bench tiredly. 

“It’s different now.”

“Now you’ve met the child?”

"Something like that, " he grimaced, eyes sinking to the floor. "She's an innocent, Yen."

"She? A daughter, Geralt? I bet you never imagined that," she couldn't help but gently tease, knowing Geralt would have panicked at the prospect of raising a young woman.

"You're not wrong," his forehead crinkled with amusement. "She… has character."

"Terrifying thought. Innocence, personality and powerful. Sounds like quite the girl."

"I wanted to tell you-" Yennefer raised her hand, interrupting him.

"Enough, Geralt. You don't owe me anything, nor do I owe you. I'm here as a friend."

The witcher said nothing as he took a significant sip of ale.

"She hasn't shown any sign of the power that's prophesised, Yen."

"Yet, Geralt. She hasn't shown the signs  _ yet. _ You'd rather wait for a catalyst? For her to be beyond control? She's young, she can learn control. She can learn to mould it."

"What if they got it wrong?"

"That's wishful thinking, even for you. Do your duty, witcher. That's how you can protect her."

"You make it sound easy, Yen."

Yennefer sighed. She knew Geralt, perhaps more than he knew. She understood the feelings threatening to consume him, she saw them flickering across his face in his own subtle way. She could see how witchers earned their reputation as unfeeling. Until one met a witcher and learned his mannerisms, it would be very easy to think them emotionless, simply by the utter self control they have over their expressions. 

"Not by a long shot."

"Well, then, friend. We'd best begin somewhere. Shall I introduce you to her?"


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sneaky extra chapter to get us through Monday.
> 
> Meeting a few more characters in this chapter. There are a few spoilers but I think I’ve butchered canon enough that it isn’t too recognisable.
> 
> Also, I made a Tumblr! Come hang - https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mc-tiddles

Geralt motioned towards a thin strip of cobbled stones emerging from a dense patch of trees that would have been easily overlooked by those unaware of its presence. Amazing really, considering its proximity to the gates of Ellandar.

They didn’t have to walk far before the forest began growing scarce, revealing a series of tall glass buildings. As they approached, Yennefer picked them as a type of greenhouse. The roof of each building looked to be made from different variants of crystal. She had seen the herbologists in Aretuza practice similar methods, but always under the watchful gaze of the lab attendants, and never at such a scale. The crystals here set each of the greenhouses alight, omitting a spectacular glow.

She nearly didn’t notice the sheer rock face at first, too fixated on evaluating the elemental herbology. They were walking towards a cliff face, protruding from a steep mountains edge.

“Look closer,” said Geralt, who had paused to humour her curiosity.

The path was leading them through a thick-walled fence which blended into the mountain behind it. She could see more buildings behind the wall, rectangular arrangements, made from a combination of wood and stone.

A group of robed women cradling candlesticks were gracefully lighting a series of lanterns that decorated the edge of the path. Each woman was dressed in neat robes that matched a clear summers day. They nodded courteously at Geralt as they passed, while astutely managing to avoid Yennefer completely.

But then she saw it. An immense structure jutted out from the rockface, similar in style to the smaller buildings before it, carved immaculately from the mountain with enormous wooden beams providing support. It had to be a place of worship or else maybe a-

“The Temple of Melitele,” Geralt said, interrupting her thoughts.

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard of them, of course. Although, I had no idea they were so close to Ellandar. Renowned medics, I hear.”

Geralt grimaced, “They might have stitched a few wounds of mine in the past.”

This was going to be interesting. Yennefer had encountered priestesses before and it had nearly made her grateful for Tissaia’s tough love at Aretuza. She found that the schooling of mages created strong, confident characters, whilst the training of priestesses bred only the soft and the meek. Innocent children raised in nothing but a cult teaching them to serve and sacrifice their lives for a greater purpose.

“Stop it, Yen. They aren’t what you’re thinking.”

“Do not presume to know my thoughts, witcher.”

“It’s a way of life. No different from yours or mine. Neither of us lead conventional lives, you of all people should be able to understand theirs.”

A rebuke was at the tip of her tongue when a girl moved towards them and smiled shyly at Geralt before reaching for Roach’s reigns. The reality of Geralt handing them over without hesitation spoke volumes of his comfort within this place.

“You have my thanks, Iola.”

The girl, Iola, blushed as she guided to horse towards the stables. Geralt continued down a pathway leading to a great wooden door between two pillars as large as tree trunks. The door must have been heavy as Geralt heaved it open, pausing to let Yennefer step through.

The space was surprisingly well lit, considering they had entered what appeared to be a cave like structure. Lanterns and candles were spaced evenly throughout the hall, spreading a warm hue throughout. Several long windows, bordered by ornate wooden framing, mirrored soft beams of the setting sun across the wooden floors.

“Wait here, I’ll get Nenneke.”

“Fabulous.”

She had heard of Nenneke. The old woman had earned a reputation for riling up the local authorities. The Brotherhood had even considered sending someone during one particular period of agitation and knowing what she knows now about Geralt’s familiarity with the place, she would be surprised if he hadn’t been involved to some degree. Perhaps these priestesses had more backbone than Yennefer gave them credit for.

The sound of ceramic shattering on stone beside her quite honestly frightened the life out of her. Turning abruptly at the disturbance, she saw wide eyes peering from behind a now seriously fragmented plant pot.

“Sorry,” came a quite voice. The child stepped from her hidden nook looking guiltier than a convict.

“For which part exactly? The vandalism or the eavesdropping?”

“All of it?” She said, sheepishly.

Yennefer had no doubt whatsoever. This was the girl. She even somehow, absolutely impossibly, resembled Geralt. Ashen hair, long eyelashes, strong jaw and curious to a fault, she considered, looking back to the plant pot.

“I’m Ciri, by the way.”

“I have a feeling you’re about to be a dead Ciri, if Nenneke gets her hands on you in this state. Be off with you, I’d rather not have to clean ceramic _and_ blood.”

Needing no further encouragement, the girl took off at great speed, hurtling down the corridor and out of sight through an arched door.

Summoning a small amount of chaos, she channelled it into the broken pot. Yennefer moved her hands delicately to bring the shards together, linking each piece until it was once again whole.

The beat of footsteps striking the floorboards grew louder until a short, stout looking woman dressed in long black dress could be seen, followed closely by the witcher.

“The Lady Yennefer of Vengerberg, I presume?”

“You presume correctly, Priestess,” Yennefer replied, noting the irritable expression on Nenneke’s face she assumed Geralt done an excellent job at highlighting the present situation to the woman.

“You’re after Ciri, are you?”

“Not quite, priestess. I believe I’ve seen all I need to.”

“Yen…” Geralt said, looking perplexed.

“I do have some questions, however.”

“By all means,” said Nenneke, she pointed towards a door at the end of the corridor, “I can’t imagine this is something we want to discuss in the foyer. We’ll be much more comfortable in the library.”

Geralt and Yennefer followed obediently into what appeared to be well-stocked room full of texts and archives that, while it didn’t quite match the volumes in Aretuza, was certainly impressive for a temple. The room was empty but well lit, a soft glow emanating from a large fireplace. Nenneke pointed them towards four armchairs and a coffee table just beside it.

“That’s much better, wouldn’t you say?” She asked, moving a stack of books from her chair before sinking into the chair.

“Much,” Yennefer agreed, appreciating the comfort after an age of travel.

“Now, you had questions?”

“Had the girl displayed anything unusual for one her age? Uncontrollable fits of rage, bouts of strange illnesses or anything odd at all?”

“The girl is perfectly fine,” Nenneke said curtly.

“Nenneke…” Geralt sighed, “She’s been having… night terrors.”

“What sort of night terrors?”

“She describes The Hunt, Yen. She dreams of them.”

“The Hunt? But why would… Geralt, did you take her straight here once you found her?”

“I took her to Kaer Morhen. We needed to protect her, to make sure she could protect herself.”

“Protect herself? If you’re about to tell me that you ran your… experiments on her… “

“Of course not, Yen,” Geralt growled, “We gave her natural stimulants only –“

“Stimulants aren’t _natural_ , Geralt! Especially not to a _child!_. That’s precisely the thing that can aggravate symptoms! _Christ,_ Geralt, of all the-“

“Enough. They were natural enough, Lady Yennefer. You have my word and authority as the high priestess of this temple,” Nenneke spoke calmly, her hand raised between them, halting them as easily as telling off schoolchildren for running in the hall.

Yennefer was furious.

“I’ll be back in 3 days for the girl. She needs more help than you can give her here, no disrespect intended, Nenneke.”


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had some downtime and managed to get this finished – was going to save it and post it at the weekend, but here we are.
> 
> Would you believe I’ve only just discovered Tumblr? Come say hi/show me the way of Tumblr - https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mc-tiddles
> 
> As always, thank you for all the wonderful comments. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed putting it together.

*

Yennefer stormed from the temple, vaguely comprehending the astonished faces of the group of apprentices she passed. She took a small amount of pleasure in the disruption as she strode down the path she had followed not long ago with Geralt, pausing only when she reached the greenhouses. For a moment she did nothing, just breathed the crisp, mountainous air appreciatively, then she gathered her strength and crafted a portal. With one last breath, she stepped forward, embracing the feeling of her body being pulled by the force of magic.

She jolted to a familiar halt as the city walls of Gors Valen emerged before her eyes, a bustling city that thrived off its proximity to Aretuza. She didn’t doubt that Stregobor would be notified as soon as someone portalled within the walls of Aretuza, and she could only assume she wouldn’t be made welcome if she waltzed straight across the bridge and politely requested an audience its Rectoress. Instead, she entered the city, keeping to the shadows as much as possible, aware that Stregobor likely had spies placed in convenient places.

She set out for a small inn located at the shabby end of the city, towards the docks. Yennefer reached it quickly and without issue. She knew her way well, having frequented the city often in the past, most regularly for supplies or ingredients that were otherwise difficult to get during periods she was removed from such society.

Satisfied that she had slipped through the streets unnoticed, she entered the Goats Toe inn. While it certainly wasn’t an inn she would inhabit through choice, its status did provide a modicum of privacy due to the clientele that it usually attracted. Even as she approached the innkeeper, she identified a rather hilarious display of a trade-in what appeared to be powdered rhus root. Rhus root itself wasn’t an illegal item exactly, but its powdered form mixed with any number of easily accessible ingredients could cause a very subtle and untraceable death. This led ultimately to the Council insisting on diligent record-keeping of all who purchased the root, forcing those who desired it for its darker purposes to discover alternative methods of acquisition.

Yennefer booked a room for the night under the name Thevetia Stepanek, a name that could be easily overlooked should someone investigate her presence. Her room was on the second floor, above the tavern, and other than a questionable stain that she pointedly ignored, it was perfectly serviceable. There was a bed, a crooked dresser that balanced precariously on three legs and a small desk. She immediately moved towards the desk and selected the most wrinkled parchment of the stationary selection.

_Tissaia,_

_I’m afraid Nanny hurt her foot again, she’s asking for you._

_Yours,_

She thought for a moment, then signed;

_Thevetia Stepanek_

She trusted Tissaia would interpret her letter easily enough. The only difficulty she faced was if she actually knew someone with such a name, which she supposed was rather unlikely. Now she just needed someone to deliver it. Yennefer tied the parchment neatly with a piece of simple string and went downstairs to speak to the innkeeper once more.

“You don’t happen to know how a girl could get a letter into Aretuza?” She tries, smiling softly at the man.

“I might know of a man that could make such delivery, for a fee, of course, you understand,” he returns her smile, displaying an impressive set of rotting teeth.

“I would expect nothing less of such a service. Urgency and discretion will be rewarded most considerably.” Yennefer withdraws two gold coins and gives them to the man, “I trust this amount suffices for the efforts involved?”

“Certainly, I’ll pass it on to my man most immediately.”

“Might I also be so bold as to request that if a rather stern-looking woman comes asking for me, that she be directed to my room?”

“Of course.”

“You have my thanks.”

With her task complete, she had nothing to do but wait. She asked Tomas, the innkeeper, to send a pitcher of ale with two cups to her room in anticipation of Tissaia’s arrival. However, as she settled in with her own rapidly disappearing cup, she realised she had no idea when the woman would arrive… or if she would even arrive at all. Not for the first time, she finds herself thinking about what Tissaia was doing presently. Would she be in that comfortable old chair of hers as she reads Yennefer’s letter perhaps? Would she jump up straight away and rush to her?

Yennefer scoffed at herself. Hating the pleasure rising within her at the thought of Tissaia abandoning her duties to answer Yennefer’s request.

Darkness had settled, leaving Yennefer sitting in shadows by the window. She finally considered the possibility of Tissaia actually not coming. The notion left her feeling rather lost, she realised. Unaccustomed to such being in such a state, she poured the remnants of the ale into her mug and sipped industriously

She would take the child elsewhere. Perhaps Yennefer would even take her back to Kaer Morhen. She would be safe enough there. If she was unable to be protected by the mages, she would hope the home of the witcher would be sufficient. Geralt would be thrilled, at least.

A soft knock on the door broke her musings.

“You may enter,” she said, shoving the mounting hopefulness back into the pit of her stomach.

The door creaked open, revealing at long last the Rectoress. She looked remarkably out of place in the dingy inn, yet still held herself as though she was perfectly at ease.

Yennefer stood to greet her, however, Tissaia raised her hand before she could speak.

“Just tell me you had a viable reason for your rather sudden leap from safety?”

“Aretuza was hardly safe, Tissaia, but yes, I had a reason… It’s good to see you, too.”

Tissaia stepped towards her until Yennefer could feel her breath on her skin and see miniscule speckles of hazel buried within blue eyes. Before she could comprehend it, Yennefer was encased tightly in Tissaia’s arms. Her body froze momentarily before she returned the hug, slowly bringing her own arms to wrap around Tissaia's small frame.

"Foolish, insolent, _insufferable_ girl, " she said before detaching herself and stepping back.

Yennefer smiled for what felt like the first time in an age.

"You got my letter then?"

"Yes, Yennefer. Or should I say Thevetia?"

"I admit I’m curious, how did you know it was me?"

"Who else could it have been? It had to be either you or a pathetic attempt at a setup." Yennefer watched Tissaia's mouth quirk upwards at the prospect.

"It wouldn't have been _that_ pathetic…" mumbled Yennefer, feeling defensive, "but it was developed in haste, I admit."

"Well, I suppose we should discuss what led you to orchestrate such genius schemes," she said. Yennefer watched as she assessed the room methodically before sitting on the bed.

"I need your help."

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Goats Toe is actually a pub that is arguably less suspect than the one described (not by much, I’ll be honest). In terms of Yennefer’s letter to Tissaia, well, I won’t be starting a career in cryptography any time soon.
> 
> Ps Cascabela thevetia is a beautiful/poisonous shrub and if that doesn’t sum Yennefer up I’m not really sure what does


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi friends, I haven’t been able to write as much as I was hoping but still wanted to upload an update (even if it’s a wee bit late) - can confirm that all mistakes are by yours truly
> 
> Happy Friday!

“Excluding your apparent disregard for my personal correspondence, it seems your expedition was worthwhile, at least,” Tissaia said, contemplating their current situation.

“For what it’s worth, it was sitting in the open and I merely caught a glimpse of its contents…”

“… Before you took it and read it in its entirety.”

Yennefer had the grace to look sheepish.

“It wasn’t my intention to invade your privacy, but as it pertained to me, I had to read it, Tissaia. I hope you understand.” She looks at Tissaia imploringly, understanding that if the positions between them were reversed, Yennefer would be furious.

“You’re positive this is the girl?” Tissaia asks, noticeably changing the subject.

“Without a shadow of doubt.”

“And you got yourself involved, how, exactly?”

“I confess that I’m still questioning that myself.”

“You’re being rather vague tonight, Yennefer.”

“The witcher, he fed the girl with their stimulants. _Natural,_ apparently. It was enough to know she won’t receive the support she needs to control the power within her from him. You’ve taught girls from all walks of life, with all forms of power and raised them, crafted their abilities and sent them into the world as extraordinary young women.”

“I’m not sure if you’re trying to compliment me or yourself.”

“I’m not asking you to take her to Aretuza. Not with its current climate. I am saying is that I trust you above all others when it comes to the girl.”

Tissaia thought for a moment, her eyes focused as they reached towards the window.

“I have a house, not far from here. You can take the girl there,” she said. “Yes, Yennefer. I do happen to have a small amount of autonomy outside the walls of Aretuza,” she added, upon seeing Yennefer’s expression of disbelief.

“That would be… appreciated,” Yennefer admitted, relieved beyond all measure.

“I’ll organise supplies while you get the girl. I suppose it will take you a while on horseback.”

“Horseback?” She asked, confused. Yennefer hadn’t journeyed such a length on foot in years.

“For such an intelligent woman you really can be rather daft, can’t you? _Think,_ Yennefer. You wish to portal and leave traces all over the kingdom? You may as well send the Wild Hunt a dinner invitation.”

Thoroughly scolded, Yennefer considered the woman's advice. She was correct, of course.

“I don’t have a horse,” she blinked.

Tissaia gave her a sympathetic smile, “I’m sure you’ll find one.”

*

The next morning Yennefer went to the address Tissaia had given her on a slip of parchment. It led her through the theatre district, where she was met with colourful placards and streamers and the sound of music drifting from windows. She found Tissaia’s street easily, from there the numbers along the narrow lane directed her to a broad wooden door. Yennefer pulled out an ancient looking key and placed it within the lock with difficulty, the stiffness of the latch indicating a lack of use.

As she entered a dusty corridor, she was able to confirm that it had evidently been a while since Tissaia had last visited. Curious, she thought.

The hall was dark, but even through its shadows she could see the elegance of its decor. As her eyes adjusted, she identified an elaborate candelabrum and felt her way towards it. She lit it with ease, its light immediately revealing the length of the corridor and several doors. She peeked into the first one and was met with an immaculate sitting room. Furnished pristinely with a tidy loveseat, coverlets and plump cushions that Yennefer suspected were for display alone, rather than use. There were shelves of books lining the wall, and upon closer inspection, they all looked incredibly dull and were all common pieces of literature. Nothing in this room felt like Tissaia.

She moved further along the corridor, looking curiously inside the other doors and seeing nothing but designer spaces with no identity. A kitchen, spotless and uncluttered, leading into a dining room that nearly resembled an operating theatre and a bathroom that she doubted had ever been used.

She spent no time in the other rooms, instead opting to hurry up the richly varnished staircase to another hallway, this one peeking down at the bottom floor. Yennefer was sure TIssaia wouldn’t mind it if she inspected the house, in fact, the woman likely expected it. With this in mind, she approached the first of the doors on the upper floor.

A bedroom. Furnished lavishly just like the rest of the house. A large bed coated with rich, dense fabrics and large comfortable looking pillows was centred against the window. Two armchairs decorated the other end of the room, placed in front of an ill-used fireplace. The chairs looked worn, but less so than Tissaia’s office chair, Yennefer mused. A small bookshelf decorated the space between the door and the wall, uncluttered, of course, but entirely more authentic than shelves in previous rooms. Yennefer picked out a few of Tissaia’s favourite tomes, their edges faded and creased with use. As much as this space was evidently Tissaia’s, Yennefer didn’t feel as though she was an invader.

She turned her back on the room and made her way through the others on the floor. There were another three similarly sized, somewhat scarce bedrooms.

“Well, this will do nicely,” she mused.

*

Yennefer portalled to Ellander shortly after dawn on the day she was due to leave with Ciri, where she organised supplies for their long journey through Temeria. With a bag full of bread, cheese and dried meat to sustain them, she focused her attention on acquiring a horse. She approached the first groomsman she identified upon leaving the gates of the city.

“Good morning, good sir. I don’t suppose you have a solid, reliable horse available for purchase? Acquirable today.”

The man eyed her, “I’ve a solid one, but she’s a bit flighty. Especially around men. Could be hard work.”

“Show me.”

He led Yennefer towards the stables where she was met with a large, dapple grey horse with nervous eyes. The animal twittered anxiously as they approached. Yennefer reached out to her slowly, palm flat against the horse's muzzle. She watched her tentatively, but humoured Yennefer's attention. As the groomsman drew close behind her, she noticed the horse grow agitated. He raised his hand towards the horse, mimicking Yennefer’s, but the horse became visibly uncomfortable at the man's presence. Yennefer reached a decision.

“I’ll take her.”

A short time later, Yennefer led the mare from the stables. She could sense the animal growing relaxed as they left the area. The horse became excited, twittering playfully at her as they walked along the path towards the Temple of Melitele.

“Imagine, calling you hard work,” she mused. The animal contentedly ignored her, too distracted by her newfound freedom. The mare nipped mischievously at any plant or object that came across her path through the forest, until she halted suddenly at a large patch of grass.

“Come, now,” she encouraged, pulling gently on the reign.

The animal looked at her, huffed dramatically, and fell to her knees before rolling repeatedly on the filthy ground.

“Now you’re being ridiculous.” Yennefer resigned herself to wait for the animal to finish. She watched in amusement for several moments until the beast collected itself.

“Are you quite finished?” She asked, eyebrows raised.

“Come on, then. You’ve had your fun.” She gathered the reigns once again and continued through the forest. The mare following obediently, even if she was carrying remnants of the forest on her coat.

A group of initiates were waiting for them as they arrived at the Temple. The girl known as Iola greeted her with an abrupt nod as she gestured towards the horse. Yennefer reached towards the animal, feeling its restlessness, and gently stroked its nose in an effort to calm the animal.

“Hush, Lady. We are with friends.”

The mare responded obediently when Yennefer passed the reigns to the initiate and followed her with a gentle huff.

“They are waiting for you, Lady Yennefer,” another initiate was standing beside her, holding the door into the temple open for her.

“We’d better not keep them waiting, then,” she smiled gently at the girl before walking into the temple.

She found Nenneke standing in front of the crackling fireplace in the room she had been brought to on her previous visit. The girl, Ciri, was sitting demurely behind her in one of the armchairs, her hands fidgeting in her lap. Geralt was nowhere to be seen.

“Lady Yennefer,” Nenneke announced, Ciri’s head bounced from its focus on the ground to meet Yennefer’s gaze. Yennefer returned it with a soft smile, hoping to offer some small comfort to the girl. She wasn’t totally heartless, and she predicted quite the number of hardships in the girl’s future. She would teach her to be resilient, the way Tissaia had taught her. To be strong and confident in herself and her abilities. Yennefer knew it was going to be a long, draining journey, but the thought of having Tissaia’s support encouraged her.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks, I hope everyone is staying happy and healthy and nobody is going too crazy. 
> 
> Again, as always, I'm sorry it took me a while to post this, I work in Health and while I love my job it isn't leaving me with much spare time these days.
> 
> You can find me at:   
> https://www.tumblr.com/blog/mc-tiddles  
> (although i'm still learning the ins and outs of tumblr)
> 
> I hope this gives some kind of reprieve to anyone who needs it :)

*

Yennefer could feel Ciri’s body slump against her as their journey continued. The girl was sitting in front of her, so that Yennefer could support her should she tire during the long days. It was all too simple to slide off the animal during a micro sleep, and she knew the girl wasn’t likely to have experience such a length on horseback.

The girl certainly had stamina, judging from the sheer amount of energy she directed into questions and observations.

“How many types of trees do you think we’ve passed?”

“Will it be warmer where we’re going?”

“Will you teach me how to blow things up?”

Now that the girl was quiet, Yennefer almost missed the entertainment. _Almost._

They had reached the Western forest, the narrow path through dense wilderness carried a chilly wind that cut through even Yennefer’s thick robes. She reached for the train of her cloak and used it to cover Ciri as much as she could. The girl mumbled at being stirred but nestled quickly into the warmth of the cloak.

*

It was a while before Ciri shifted once more. Yennefer looked down to see wide eyes peering up at her.

“Sleep well, child?” Yennefer asked, smiling slightly at the girl.

“Surprisingly so, actually, considering my bed was a horse,” Ciri said, returning a small smile of her own.

“It’s amazing what makes for a comfortable bed when exhaustion hits.”

She felt Ciri wriggle from her nest of cloaks and saw a small arm reach for one of the saddlebags, searching momentarily for something, before pulling back with two strips of salted meat. She shyly offered Yennefer one, which Yennefer accepted with a polite nod, and leaned back into Yennefer comfortably.

“How much longer will it be before we get to…” Ciri trailed off.

“We’ve been over this, girl. If you don’t know, you won’t be able to accidentally tell anyone where it is you’re going. All it takes –“

“Is a small slip of the lips. I know,” Ciri mumbled, slumping defeatedly against her.

“If you don’t know, you will never be in such a position.”

“What if I can guess it?”

“No _.”_

“But what if- “

“ _No._ ”

They continued in silence for a short while, until the dense woodland began to clear, easing into a wide, open road. Sunlight beamed on them for the first time since they had entered the forest, and Yennefer found herself squinting until her eyes adjusted.

The girl, however, strained her eyes as she tried to take as much in as possible. Yennefer watched as Ciri’s eyes began to water in her efforts.

“Look, Yenna! It’s a village!” The girl squealed, too overcome with excitement to have even noticed the nickname she had just imposed on Yennefer. She found herself not correcting the girl. What harm could it do? She would keep an ear out for it in future, if it became too reoccurring, then she would raise it with the girl.

“Can we stop for a while? Please?” She was positively grovelling, looking up at Yennefer with hopeful eyes.

“The sun will be setting soon,” Yennefer observed, “I suppose we can stay the night if there’s room.”

Ciri beamed in response and leaned forward on the horse, grabbing the animal’s mane to balance herself, much to Lady’s dismay.

Yennefer guided the mare towards the village tavern, a large wooden building that looked slightly rotted through in places. She slid from the horse and secured her to the railings outside. A small shriek drew her attention to Ciri who was teetering precariously close to falling from the horse at an uncomfortable angle. She grabbed the girl before she could come to harm and held her as she slid from the extraordinarily patient mare. As soon as Ciri was safely positioned on the ground, Yennefer reached into one of the saddlebags and pulled a sugar cube from within, giving it to the horse with a gentle scratch as a reward.

“Hey, you didn’t tell me we had sugar cubes.”

“If I told you, we would no longer have them.”

The girl huffed, eyeing the saddlebag with newfound intrigue.

They entered the village tavern to be greeted with the musty scents of dust and stale ale. Ciri moved just a step behind her, staying close as Yennefer requested a room and dinner for the night. The innkeeper motioned towards a door behind the bar, leading them to a small bath house and a row of bedrooms.

Yennefer entered the room assigned to them for the night and set their belongings on the floor beside the door. Ciri, full of confidence now the two of them were alone again, leapt on the closest bed and sprawled out, stretching with exaggeration.

“I will never take a padded bed for granted again,” she vowed.

“Appreciate it while it lasts, we’ve a way to go before you’ll see another one,” Yennefer warned the girl. The last thing she needed was for Ciri to expect a warm bed every night.

“It’s been 3 days! I confess I didn’t expect you to say yes to this one.”

“We’ve made good time, but we’ll have to ride harder tomorrow to make it up again.”

“It’s worth it,” Ciri yawned.

“I’ll remind you of that tomorrow. Come, you need to bathe before you settle.”

Ciri frowned from within her new nest but moved obediently from the bed with a small sigh.

Yennefer walked towards the bathhouse, steam billowing from the room as soon as she opened the door.

“And I don’t want to catch a single waft of horse until I absolutely must.”

*

The next morning, they found themselves in the main tavern. Ciri, realising that luxury was fleeting on this journey, had positively begged Yennefer for one last hot meal, vowing in utmost sincerity that she wouldn’t ask for anything ever again.

Yennefer conceded, of course, if only to remind the child of her oath upon her next complaint. Perhaps she could make a lesson of it, considering the influence a simple misused oath has made on her life. That’s what got the girl into this mess, after all.

She had been lax, she realised, too content to humour the girl. That needed to stop. Yennefer was not here to provide a reprieve, she was to hone, mould and teach this child to protect herself. The time they had now was being wasted.

“Finish up. I’m going to prepare Lady,” she said to the girl. Ciri slurped the last of her broth and shoved another bread roll in her pocket before rising from her seat and rushing after her.

“What’s the rush?” She asked, wiping her face clean with her sleeve.

“We’ve dawdled long enough. It’s time to get moving.”

Yennefer fastened the saddlebags closed, pulling their straps tightly. She moved on to the saddle itself, securing it so it would be as comfortable as possible for both them and Lady on the long road. She lifted her foot, placing it in the stirrup and swung herself up onto the animal. Ciri watched from the ground before following the older woman’s lead, reaching for her hand so she could pull her upwards. The girl was still awkward in her horsemanship. Her lessons had evidently been catered towards side-saddle demonstrations and short hunting trips. Yennefer found herself wondering if Ciri had ever visited a city other than Cintra before its fall. If she had, she had likely travelled within the luxury of a carriage. Gods, Yennefer herself wasn’t exactly accustomed to such lengthy means of transport. The girl must truly have at least some semblance of strength within her to have made it even this far. Yennefer could build on that.

Ciri wriggled in front of her, her brow furrowed tightly as she eased burning muscles back into the saddle.

“For how long do we ride today, Lady Yennefer?”

Lady, Yennefer noted. The girl must be wary indeed.

“I believe we need only cross through several more villages before we reach our destination. If we push ourselves, we could be there within two days."

Ciri said nothing, realising there was no _if_ in the equation at all.

*

As the moon began to settle that night, Yennefer led Lady through a thick copse of trees and shrubs. The animal bristled as branches scraped against her skin, but obeyed her navigation. Once Yennefer was satisfied that they were removed enough from the road, she nudged Ciri awake. The girl had dozed on and off for most of the day, each time waking to an ever increasing ache.

As Yennefer swung her leg to the side, she took note of her own state. Her entire body felt as though she had been loaded up with rocks and thrown into the ocean. She eased herself to the ground as gradually as she could, unsure if her legs would support her.

She left Ciri to fend for herself against the horse while she prepared a small fire. It was within these moments that she found herself missing the simplicity of simple spells. With an effortlessness that she often took for granted, she could have rejuvenated their bodies enough to sustain them until they returned to Gors Valen. It would have cut their trip in half, possibly more.

The flint finally caught a spark and she found herself nurturing the delicate flame, something she hadn’t done in years. She found herself enjoying mindlessness of the task, finding satisfaction in the blossoming embers and gentle crackles as the flames settled. The flickering broke through the sheer darkness of the night, silhouetting all in its path.

The forest floor crunched behind her, alerting her to Ciri’s presence.

“I tied Lady to the tree over there. She seemed rather irritated so I bribed her affection with the rest of the sugar cubes.”

“It looks like Lady wasn’t the only one to benefit from the sugar,” she said, watching as Ciri’s lips smacked together, savouring the taste of what could only have been something sweet.

The girl grinned.

“Maybe I needed a bit of encouragement, too.”

They worked silently, making a bed on the leaf padded ground from their cloaks beside the warmth of the fire. The two of them sat for a while longer, neither opting to break the peace of the wilderness. Birds rustled boisterously in nearby trees, twittering to each other in their search for food. Yennefer simply lay, absorbing the peace of that moment, until she felt her body sink into the tranquility, her mind sated and falling into an easy sleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so it isn't a very big chapter, and it might not even be a very literate chapter, but it's a chapter
> 
> I hope everyone is keeping safe

*

Yennefer woke in the pitch black to the sounds of whimpering. Instantly alert, Yennefer found the source of the sounds. Ciri's form was a shadow in the moonlight, yet she could see the small body heave with the weight of her sobbing.

“Child,” she said gently, reaching towards the girl. She lay a hand Ciri's shoulder, pressing firmly before moving it to her forehead. The girl was burning up.

“Ciri,” she said, more forcefully now as a result of growing anxiety. The girl was asleep. Her eyes sealed shut with what she supposed was a night terror. Tears leaking down her face, glinting in the darkness as Yennefer wiped them away.

Ciri gasped desperately, hands reaching for Yennefer as her eyes shot open.

“Hush, child. You’re safe. It was just a dream.”

Slowly, the girls breathing began to settle. The only indication of her distress became the small noises Yennefer wasn’t even sure the girl knew she was making. Ciri had all but crawled into Yennefer’s lap, where she could feel her small frame begin settle and gradually becoming heavier.

Eventually a small voice broke through the silence.

“What if they come for me?”

“Then we will make sure they regret it,” Yennefer vowed, promising to herself that the forces threatening this girl would meet her one day, and she would be ready for them.

*

“You’re acting like you haven’t seen a city before.”

“It smells,” the girl answered, her nose buried in her cloak to mask the scent of Gora Vale.

“you’ve grown more accustomed to the road than I’ve given you credit for. Perhaps I should leave you here “

Ciri squinted at her in return, “don’t you smell it? The... _filth_?”

“Of course I do. I’m simply not being dramatic. You can’t protect your nose forever, girl.”

Yennefer reached for the girls cloak and tugged it down. Ciri frowned, “We’re staying here, then?”

“Indeed. After sleeping in hovels and forest floors I would have thought you would be more grateful.”

“It wasn’t so bad,” she said quietly, as they rode past the body of a man, passed out in front of a shop front in a drunken stupor. Yennefer noticed the moment the girl picked up on the yellow stains on the trouser leg and watched her head shake and redden in disbelief.

It had been many moons since the Princess had lived in Cintra, but the girl’s exposure to the real inhabitant within the city walls was evidently limited to regions only a young woman should be acquainted with. She supposed the girl had been treating this particular journey as an adventure, but now the reality of her position had likely set in.

“You’ll be pleased to know you won’t have to share accommodations with the serfs and scoundrels. We’ll be staying with a... friend.”

Yennefer supposed Tissaia was a friend. The term felt so empty upon reflection. _Friendship_. Friendship didn’t take into consideration the tumultuous years of mentoring, of the desperate need Yennefer once had to prove herself worthy of notice, of the decades spent with thoughts often straying the woman. Triss was a friend, as was Sabrina. Tissaia was so much more.

“Geralt said you were a friend,” Yennefer found herself thankful for the interruption.

“He said that, did he? I suppose years of cleaning up his lose ends would leave me as such.”

“What I mean is, Geralt said you were a friend, and you took me away. I don’t want to keep leaving so if your _friend_ wants to take me anywhere, I won’t go!”

Ciri’s voice grew louder and louder until she caught the curious looks of people passing by.

“If you’re quite done, I’m not going to pawn you off, silly girl. Tissaia is the Rectoress of Aretuza. You have heard of Aretuza, yes?”

“My grandmothers told me stories of the Isle of Thanedd,” she said, considerably quietened, “I think she meant to give me more of an understanding of the skills her advisor possessed. She liked to keep him close.”

“Calanthe’s advisor? The druid? I would take his wisdom of Aretuza lightly, child. I’d be surprised if he had set foot on the Isle at all.”

“His name was Mousesack,” the girls voice could barely be heard, quiet but brimming with emotion. “He was a friend.”

Yennefer remained silent as they continued through narrow streets. The girl slumped in front of her, emotions obviously battling within her.

“Tissaia is my Mousesack, if you will.”

Yennefer cringed as soon as the words were spoken. Heavens, if Tissaia could see her now. Regardless of the turmoil the words created within Yennefer, they seemed to calm the girl.

Hoping to distract her, Yennefer continued, “What makes a city?”

The girl stiffened, wary of another test. Yennefer had developed a habit of throwing seemingly pointless questions at her, always catching her off guard.

“I would imagine the Builders Guild would take some of the credit,” she said, with a small huff.

“On a basic level, I suppose they do. Think deeper. Does the guild merely build where they please?”

The girl turned to pin her with a look of utter distain.

“I suppose they don’t,” she paused, mulling over the subject. “The people. The inhabitants. Without the people there would be no infrastructure, no reason to build. The guild would be useless without a demand.”

“Very good.”

The girl turned to look at Yennefer, eyebrows raised. Yennefer’s praise wasn’t loosely given. Perhaps she had finally passed one of the many moral trials.

Yennefer pointed at an unassuming building before them, saving the girl from further interrogations, and threw herself from the horse in a manner that was rather un-Yennefer-like. Her leg swung over Ciri, who leaned forward for fear of impact, and she landed unceremoniously on two wobbly feet. Ciri watched Yennefer sway slightly, grasping the horse for balance, before motioning towards Ciri to do the same.

Eager to finally end their journey, Ciri urged numb limbs to follow suit.

“I thought you might have made a detour through Brokilon forest. You were expected yesterday.”

“Oh, you know me, Tissaia. Never one for meeting expectations.”

Ciri’s gaze spun to the source of the voice, catching the sharp gaze of a small, immaculate looking woman. Dropping to the ground beside her, Ciri realised Yennefer was simply tall in comparison, dwarfing most women standing close. This woman, Tissaia, was still taller than Ciri. The girl cursed.

“As I’m sure you’ve deducted, this elegant creature is Ciri,” Yennefer pinned the girl with a stern look, prompting a soft, well-practiced, introductory greeting.

“Pleasure to meet you, Rectoress.”

“My, no need for that, you may simply call me Tissaia,” the woman responded with a kind smile.

“Oh, that’s rich. Took three decades to get to first name basis.” Yennefer scoffed.

“If I had my way you still wouldn’t be.”

“I thought you said she was your Mousesack?” Ciri cut in, taken aback by the dynamic of the two witches.

“That is quite enough chatting, I think! Get your things, girl!” Yennefer abandoned them both, pushing past hastily to enter the house.


End file.
